


Arthur's Court

by basilique



Category: Merlin (TV), Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Arthur feels, Camelot feels, Crossover, Finn feels, Finn/Intrinsic Morality OTP, Gen, Happy Ending, Short & Sweet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-01
Updated: 2016-04-01
Packaged: 2018-05-30 11:04:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,115
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6421390
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/basilique/pseuds/basilique
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><em>A royal summons to Arthur’s court. </em><br/>Finn is jittery with nerves. Surely he will stand out like a sore thumb among the noble men and women of the king’s court.  He could scarcely believe it when Merlin knocked on the door that morning to wake him and handed him a scroll, signed with the king’s own name.<br/>His presence is expected in the great hall at dusk. Not only expected, but required, and Finn cannot fathom why on earth this could be.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Arthur's Court

_A royal summons to Arthur’s court._

Finn is jittery with nerves. Surely he will stand out like a sore thumb among the noble men and women of the king’s court. He could scarcely believe it when Merlin knocked on the door that morning to wake him and handed him a scroll, signed with the king’s own name. 

His presence is expected in the great hall at dusk. Not only expected, but required, and Finn cannot fathom why on earth this could be. 

Perhaps the king means to make an example of him. Perhaps he will have Finn executed while the courtiers look on, as a warning to anyone who consorts with the First Order. 

To Finn’s unease, this scenario seems entirely possible. The king knows full well that Finn was raised in the lap of the First Order, that ruthless clan of warlocks and warriors, crusading with the aim of conquering the known world. Since Finn rode into Camelot six days ago on the back of a stolen horse, bloodied and wild-eyed, his escape from the First Order has been the talk of the castle. 

But Arthur does not seem the type to execute someone without a trial. After a brief interview, the king had inexplicably offered him a chamber in the castle, where he could stay for the time being, as well as the opportunity to mingle at the training grounds with Camelot’s fighters if he so desired. No, Arthur is no Kylo Rex. But what reason, then, could he possibly have for this summons? 

Finn had tried to needle a bit of information out of Merlin, with whom he is quickly developing a friendship. But Merlin had just shot him a cheeky smile and closed the door in his face. 

Now, with just an hour to go until vespers and the opening of the court, Finn clambers into the clothing he is required to wear. A servant had come by and laid it out neatly on his bed. He had thought, once again, that there was some mistake when he saw the beautiful newly-pressed linens and the bright ceremonial armor. Surely he does not have the status to wear garments like this. But he does as he is told. 

Finn fastens the silver breastplate over the white linen shirt. He clasps the shining silver gauntlets at his forearms and the plates at his knees. Lastly, and with a good deal of awe, he lifts from the bed the rose red cape, emblazoned with golden dragons at the shoulders. He swings it around his body and clasps it. He stares at himself in the full-length mirror upon the wall. 

How strange it is to wear these clothes, which symbolize the ideals of Camelot. Courage, chivalry, fairness and heart. Finn cannot begin to imagine what it would have been like to grow up with these ideals. 

How strange it is to wear a uniform that leaves his face exposed. He is hardly accustomed to the sight of his own face, young and clumsily handsome. His face has been hidden for so long beneath the war-helm of the First Order. 

Finn feels like an imposter in these clothes. He feels like an imposter in this whole kingdom. Who is he to stay in this place where people know nothing but peace, where justice is a daily reality, and friendship flows easily like a fountain? 

He could never be accepted in Camelot. He is trained to kill, and nothing else. He has nothing to offer these people.

Finn splashes water from the washbowl on his face and takes a deep breath to calm himself. Imposter or not, he needs to be downstairs in just a few moments. 

He is learning the routes of the castle, and he manages to reach the great hall without getting lost. He takes another deep, enormous breath as he approaches the guards who flank the double doors. Surely they will bar him from entrance… 

But instead, the guards nod to him, and open the great oaken doors. 

Finn’s mouth falls open. The great hall is packed with people. Commoners, servants, knights and nobles stand side by side. And as the doors open and Finn steps into the doorway, they all turn to look at _him_. 

A hush falls over the crowd, disturbed only by little whispers of excitement. 

Finn blinks around at the crowd, too stunned to move for several moments, until Gwain steps up from behind him. 

“Go on,” he murmurs. “To Arthur. And close your mouth.” He claps Finn on the shoulder. 

Finn shuts his mouth and walks as though he is in a trance. 

Arthur is seated on the throne across the hall, a ceremonial sword resting across his knees. 

The crowd parts as Finn approaches the throne. He catches sight of Merlin, grinning from ear to ear, and of Gwen, the most beautiful and brilliant woman he has ever met, beaming at him.

Before the throne, Finn is not sure what he is supposed to do. But he takes a knee, and bows his head to Arthur. 

When Arthur speaks, his voice is stern and serious, and it rings out through the hall. 

“Finn Galahad,” Arthur says, and the crowd ceases its whispering at once. “Since your arrival in Camelot, you have shown great skill in battle at the training yard. You have earned the respect of my knights and they have spoken very highly of you to me.” 

Finn glances sidelong at Lancelot, who inclines his head just slightly, suppressing a smile. 

“You have the strength of a seasoned warrior, a strength that can be relied upon to defend Camelot,” Arthur continues. “But that is not the reason for this summons.” 

Finn risks a glance up at Arthur, and the king meets his eye and holds his gaze. Arthur drops the stateliness of his voice, so that it sounds for a moment as though he is speaking only to Finn. 

“You told me your story,” he says. “And you were ashamed. Ashamed because all your life you had been trained to kill without mercy. And yet, you discovered in the heat of battle that mercy lived _in you_.” 

Arthur raises his voice again. “You defied all that you had ever been taught and left all that you had ever known because you were stronger than the First Order. The strength of a knight is not his skill in battle, but the compassion in his heart. It is _this_ strength that Camelot needs. And so--" 

Arthur rises from the throne and lifts the ceremonial sword. “I dub you, Finn Galahad, defender of the soil, protector of the crown, _knight_ of the Round Table. Rise, Sir Galahad the Pure.”


End file.
